The moral contours of our new Gilded Age

When Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio announced his papal name, he stoked hopes for a season of reform in the spirit of St. Francis. In the weeks since, the Argentinian pontiff, who was shaped in part by his experiences in Buenos Aires’ villas miserias, has not disappointed. 

Pope Francis has garnered headlines with his simplicity—riding the bus, cancelling his own newspaper subscription and opting for the Vatican guesthouse over the more opulent papal apartments—as well as with his calls for a “Church for the poor.” On Holy Thursday he raised countless eyebrows by washing the feet of female prisoners at a Roman juvenile detention center. The surprise these actions met reflects, among other things, this: that when it comes to the matter of the haves and have nots, Christians these days tend not to rock the boat.

In the United States, contemporary Christianities rarely challenge the economic status quo. On the contrary, they typically celebrate the ever more elusive and yet no less alluring “American Dream.” Christians are as enamored with upward mobility—and all the iPads, designer countertops, and luxury sedans that come with it—as the next person.